


Bomb

by Cumquatmarmalade



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 13:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15931271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cumquatmarmalade/pseuds/Cumquatmarmalade
Summary: In this tense situation, a bomb might not be all they need to diffuse.





	Bomb

Jack Robinson crouched beside the object, his hands shaking and a sheen of sweat breaking out across his brow.

Phryne Fisher stood just inside the doorway of the room they had found themselves in just minutes earlier, searching for a desperate man, a dangerous man.

“You need to get out of here,” Jack whispered over his shoulder.

“I’m not leaving you,” she replied defiantly.

“There’s no point both of us risking our lives.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Phryne _please_ ,” Jack said, his tone becoming more exasperated.

“You said you could diffuse it,” she reminded.

“I may have been overly confident.”

“I could _help_ ,” she all but pleaded.

“If you stay, I’ll be more concerned with your safety than I am about this bomb. I really need to concentrate on _this_ \- and not on how much I,”- He stopped, unable even now to say the words that were in his heart.

It seemed she understood. Somehow, she always did. “How do you think I would feel if anything happened to _you_ ,” she whispered. “Jack, I couldn’t bear it. Besides you’re here because of me.”

In a way it was true. Phryne had been on the trail of a dangerous ex-prisoner who had become embroiled in a plot to rob the national museum of priceless artefacts. Arriving as the museum opened, she had tracked the man to the rare jewels of ancient Egypt exhibit, when he had rounded on her, placed an explosive device on the floor and made his escape. She had gone to pursue him, but Jack had arrived at that moment and warned her that the bomb was likely made of highly unstable explosives and any rash movements or loud noises could set it off.

He’d told her to back slowly out of the room and she had begun to do so, until he’d crouched beside the object and her blood had run cold with the realisation of what he was about to attempt, and a desperate sort of fear grew for him.

“What do you know about diffusing a bomb like that one?” she asked, returning to the moment once more.

“I know it needs to be done with steady hands and extreme care and very, very slowly.”

“Alright,” she nodded.

“Phryne please go,” he repeated.

“I can’t leave you,” she whispered, desperate tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

“You have to,” he snapped. “I have to do this alone. I can’t risk anyone else,”-

Phryne stood her ground. “What? _Dying?_ Don’t you dare Jack Robinson.”

Jack removed his gloves and laid them carefully beside him on the floor. He huffed a quiet sigh and after a brief glance in Phryne’s direction, he placed his hands on either side of the dome like metal structure that appeared to be encasing the device.

With painstaking slowness, Jack eased the casing from the bomb, revealing a complex series of wires attached to what looked to be dynamite, and an alarm clock acting as detonator.

“Oh dear god,” Phryne breathed. “It’s counting down.”

“So it would appear,” Jack answered.

“How long?” she asked.

“About four minutes,” he replied. “Give or take.”

At that moment Hugh Collins appeared in the doorway. “Sir?” he asked anxiously.

“You need to get everyone away from this museum. There are approximately four minutes to evacuate everyone.”

“Yes sir!” Collins replied.

Jack nodded towards Phryne and then fixed Hugh with a meaningful look. “I mean everyone, Hugh,” he said.

Constable Collins nodded his understanding.

“Come with me, Miss Fisher,” he said.

“I’m not leaving him,” she answered.

“Collins.”

Hugh moved swiftly, picked Phryne up and threw her over his shoulder. She cried out in protest and hammered at Hugh’s back with her fists. But he had her in a vice like grip and began to remove her from the building.

She caught Jack’s eye as she was being pulled away.

He smiled a sad, rueful smile.

“Jack, no,” she said softly, stopping her struggles.

“ _Live_ Phryne,” he said. “Be happy. And know that you were loved.”

“No!” She fought Hugh harder but it was futile.

Jack heard her cries for some time as Hugh dragged her from the building. Then, with her safety assured, he returned to the device in front of him.

Police swept the building taking those people left inside to an open field some distance away from the museum. They huddled together, watching the museum and hoping nothing would befall it, or the man inside trying to diffuse the explosive.

Hugh put Phryne down on the grass and she made to run back towards the building. He caught her and as she went to fight him off, a deafening explosion rent the air.

“Jack!” She screamed his name, a mixture of grief and fear and pain causing it to rip from her throat in an anguished cry.

She broke free of Hugh and ran towards the museum.

Smoke billowed out of the front doors but Phryne covered her mouth with her scarf and pushed her way inside.

It was difficult to see and the smell was overpowering but she made steady progress towards the room where she had left Jack.

She had left him.

And now he was…

“Jack!” she yelled. “Jack where are you?”

She was frantic now, running from room to room as choking smoke filled her lungs and stung her eyes.

The room containing the jewellery was empty. No sign of Jack or the device. He’d moved the bomb to save the antiquities.

“Oh Jack,” she whispered, grief threatening to overwhelm her.

“Phryne?” His voice was soft, but unmistakeably him.

She turned to see him standing in the doorway, dirty and dishevelled but very much alive.

“I remembered the lead box in the War exhibition room. I shut the bomb in there. It made a bit of a mess but it didn’t bring down the building,” he explained.

Phryne covered the distance between them in two quick strides, throwing herself into his arms and clinging to him as if she were drowning and he was a life buoy.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” she breathed against his cheek, and then her mouth was on his, hot and searching.

Jack clasped her to him and returned her kiss with equal fervour, his tongue parting her lips and sliding hotly against her own.

She moaned against his mouth and he pressed closer to her, backing her against a glass exhibit case.

Her hands wove into his hair, pulling him closer and closer and yet still not close enough.

“I’m sorry,” he panted against her lips. “I’m sorry for frightening you. There wasn’t another way.”

“I want to go home,” she said quietly, stepping away from him.

He nodded, disappointment warring with emotions he had long supressed and which had surfaced now, unable to be buried again.

“I’ll ask Collins to drive you home,” he said, lips still tingling from her kisses and the taste of her lingering on his tongue.

“No,” she said. “I don’t think you understand. I want to go home with _you_. We almost missed our chance, Jack. I don’t want to let another day- another _night_ \- go by without _being_ with you.”

“You know what you’re saying,” he ventured.

“Of course I do. The question is, do you want me too?”

He smiled at her; a warm smile filled with possibility and promise.

“More than anything.”

 


End file.
